


the music we make is unnatural but it sounds just like falling in love

by dodgefred



Category: Alice by Heart - Sheik/Sater/Sater & Nelson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, Gen, Modern Era, death mention, tabatha is poor and gay and happy, yes i would be a lot happier w more money but i wanted to write a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27345490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodgefred/pseuds/dodgefred
Summary: Her financial situation sucked and her love life was fucked. She slept around with people she’d never be interested in while sober, and was still in mourning of a death that happened when she was fourteen. She didn’t end up getting a job in psychology after years of working towards her degree, and she didn’t want one. Despite all of this, Tabatha was unimaginably happy.Or, a character study of Tabatha Dedwin using the items that matter the most to her.
Comments: 2





	the music we make is unnatural but it sounds just like falling in love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blissfulbroadway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blissfulbroadway/gifts).



> dedicated to bella and her wonderful interpretation of tabatha
> 
> title from [butch 4 butch](https://www.tiktok.com/@riodoeseverything/video/6877345522433232133?_d=secCgsIARCbDRgBIAIoARI%2BCjxgRIgUOuzCeU7JVzB5B6lvZYxGOxL4oFlClFbFRXpn4V0qDniISqlagWQdf1wXa3LpGiSKjiTd7JwsVAMaAA%3D%3D&language=en&preview_pb=0&sec_user_id=MS4wLjABAAAAnqwTmngsSFW4HrdeWr9BHcTgkHiyXD2kHLAolMx3cOUdJsIildkaPe0FlcLlKT_g&share_item_id=6877345522433232133&share_link_id=6C5A023D-6085-4CF9-AFB6-DEB51AC92F7C&timestamp=1604300530&tt_from=copy&u_code=d9bf696edmmia8&user_id=6760818164373914630&utm_campaign=client_share&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=copy&source=h5_m) by rio romeo because it was stuck in my head while i was writing this

Her piano was taken from the dump. She and Alice went on plenty of adventures there. Alice was a little afraid to touch anything, but to Tabatha, it was a goldmine. Old jumpers rotting at the seams and tiny metal trinkets abandoned by their owners eons ago were some of her favorite finds. The piano, though, was something Tabatha never imagined to find, and was all the more pleased to have found. It was an old, out of tune stand-up thing. And despite all of its flaws -- most notably the termite infestation -- Tabatha felt nothing but magic when she ran her fingers across the keys. Thank God Alice was there to help hoist it into the back of Tabbie’s big red pickup truck. Tabbie used some generic hardware store-brand insecticides to kill the termites, and she pressed it against the wall so the holes weren’t visible.

Her truck was found at the junkyard too. Old and rusty and red, she was. Tabatha fell in love, though. She went to the dump every day that week and just sat in the bed to watch the stars at night. She didn’t even think of taking it until she brought Dodgy to visit and he, with his moneybags personality, said it wouldn’t cost much to get it towed to a mechanic and fixed up. Tabatha always felt uncomfortable with gifts, but God would she be heartbroken if the truck was taken by someone else. Dodgy paid for everything, but only after Tabatha made him promise to not get her another birthday or holiday gift for the next three years. And so, she was named Portia. 

The view outside of her window was always just a brick wall and a gross alleyway. She couldn’t afford much else, but it always added an odd charm to the place. That is, if her knicknacks didn’t already give the place a bit of a quirk. Tabatha’s shelves were full of essentially everything she could find from everywhere she went. It started off in her childhood, stealing small trinkets from each of the foster homes she had lived in. It eventually became something more. Wherever Tabbie went, whenever someone made an imprint on her, she collected a memento of the occasion. There was one for each of her friends: a mug full of flowers for Harry, a rabbit statue for Alfred, a mirror for Dodgy, and the most beautiful china doll for Alice. A ceramic cat for her sister. And sometimes, it was just things she liked. Things from car boot sales, from thrift stores, and the dump. Tabatha was a collector. She hated gifts, but she liked things.

Tabatha was always very similar to a corvid in that sense. It would only make sense that she found a raven on the side of the road with a clear injury. Tabatha was always a natural with animals. She fed every cat that came to her fire escape, after all. She brought the raven to the vet and all of that, and after that, she was able to raise it the best she could. His name, of course, had to be Edgar Allen Crow, despite the technicality of him being a raven rather than a crow. “Quoth the raven, nevermore,” and all of that jazz. It would be wrong to not give him a name like that.

Tabatha had a long history of helping animals. Long before Edgar Allen Crow, Tabatha had raised kittens. One of her fire escape cats got in her flat and birthed one little kitten underneath of her bed. As much as Tabatha tried to care for the thing, it passed away. Mama cried for weeks. She wouldn’t leave Tabatha’s bed for anything- not for food, or water, nor to pee or poo. Tabatha, of course, knew what it felt like to lose someone so close. She didn’t force the cat to move. She slept on the couch so as not to bother her, but came whenever she cried. Tabatha was never the heaviest sleeper. How could she be when life was often so much more exciting than sleep? Eventually, though, the cat grew better. As Tabatha was able to see her whole body, she learned the cat was a scraggly black thing with a kink in her tail and a few chunks taken from her ear. She seemed quite young, too. Tabatha, unfortunately, related all too well.

The cat was soon named Victoria- after her sister, and Tabatha’s middle name. Tabatha didn’t have a middle name. Not a real one, anyway. Legally, it was Mary. The nuns who found her gave it to her. But Tabatha never claimed it as hers. She wasn’t some sort of virgin houswife chosen by God. When she ran away with Victoria, they gave each other their first names as middle names. Tabathat Victoria and Victoria Tabatha, they were. And when Tabbie was old enough, she went to the courthouse and legally became Tabatha Victoria. Now she and her cat matched.

Tabatha and her piano and her truck and her knicknacks and her raven and her cat were all the best of friends. Tabatha had a shitty minimum wage job as she earned her tattoo license and had a crush on a girl who loved a boy with curly hair and freckles and the brightest blue eyes. Her financial situation sucked and her love life was fucked. She slept around with people she’d never be interested in while sober, and was still in mourning of a death that happened when she was fourteen. She didn’t end up getting a job in psychology after years of working towards her degree, and she didn’t want one. Despite all of this, Tabatha was unimaginably happy. By Mamie’s standards, her life was terrible and her flat was gross. But Tabatha had music and she had love. She had real friends; some of them just happened to be items that didn’t talk back and creatures that didn’t speak English. But Tabatha was perfectly fine with that.

**Author's Note:**

> support me and my work [here](https://ko-fi.com/sageyikes) if you enjoyed. if not, a kudos or a comment will do (:


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